Uncovering the Past
by 1930Film
Summary: A youthful Archeologist confronts the truth behind the Museum, where she meets her childhood idols and faces danger when raving dictators strut about, unimaginable criminals come to life, and befriends a wax figure, Charlie Chaplin. Night at the Museum.
1. Introduction

Author: 1930Film

Genre: Adventure/Romance/Comedy

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from this fabulous movie/book

Summary: A young Archeologist, who witnesses the unimaginable.

**Brief Introduction**

With a creeping touch of midnight, time sings a haunting lullaby to the everyday human, but a charming wakeup call to the most unlikely inhabitants. The opening of mysterious eyes, the deafening march of triumphant figures, voices to startle the reverent silence, and the wakening of something curious. Where History open's its curtains to reveal life behind the things, once considered archaic and withered. The dust lifting from opened tombs, the smell of aged artifacts drifting through timeless air, and the shadows that hide behind every corner. A dream come true for the experienced, a nightmare if ignorance grips you in its unsuspecting trap. An adventure to come or positively the start of your own doom, you decide.

Well, at least those were the rumors about a certain museum I heard about ever since that mysterious incident that occurred over 90 years ago. I wasn't alive of course, though, it having been caught on film by my grandfather, it has been accused violently by scholars as being liable to have been rehearsed with the use of special effects unheard of. A child he was back then, time shaped him to be pale, weakly, silver (thin) haired, and tiny, yet having the energy of a child at the tender age of six. He was frail, so I took care of him and as exchange he'd help me in my research. I'm an Archeologist, you see. I've tried to locate lost treasures, scrolls, ripped pages off of secretive books (Example: Lewis Carroll's diary suspicious of containing secrets to his attraction to Miss Liddell), and the like. I'm sad to say I am nineteen years old; I should like to lie and say I am at the mature age of thirty but then I'd utter a lie!

Though to flatter myself, I should say I dress as if I was from the 70's or 80's and am guilty of having been old-fashioned which is what inspired my love of all things out-dated. Something so little people find interesting, it is either despised or misunderstood. I chuckle at the thought, oh well. Now that I've gotten you into history, I'll give you mine. I promise this to be very boring. I caution you, it will cause: dizziness, loss of interest, and boredom. Ok, maybe I'll skip that. You needn't know so much. Call me, Candy—don't laugh at it! It is not funny at all. The point of this? Well, you see, I believe what happened on that cold night was real and I know just how to see the truth for myself. The only way to find it…

is to **relive** it.

**Note:**

This is just a taste of what's to come. I hope no one is annoyed with the terrible grammar. It never was my area of expertise.I have an undying muse so this story will not lag. I do not mind criticism, in fact, I encourage it! I hope this fan-fic turns successful! I can sometimes have an over-active imagination--just a warning.

Who _is_ Charles Chaplin?

He is only one of the most famous silent film director/star of the early 20th century! Search him on google and you will know who I mean.


	2. Personal life

I looked to the screen on my laptop flatly as I typed away at the keys. It was the stroke of midnight; my eyes were bloodshot from staring at the screen for the last few hours. I noticed the habit was starting to ruin my eyesight as I recently had my eyes examined and it was discovered that my right eye was unbalanced with my left one, concerning sight. Not to say that I am blind, only to say it prevents me from driving without glasses and seeing at a good distance. My time in the computer annoys me but I need it. In these times, technology was a necessity. The population was literally hooked on machinery to a point where we became too dependent on them. It is sad, really. Young children play differently then they did all those years ago when the world was not corrupted with technology. They use to go to the park and play tag—a game that isn't very well known today. Now, they play with cold heartless machinery such as the computer, updated gaming programs, and television. I'll bet yah the I.Q of people will lower to a point where they can't even think for themselves! Yes, yes, yes and then we will be conquered by our own creations! Just you watch! Just you—

I shook my head and confronted the nuisance once more. I replayed the film continuously on repeat. It would be something you'd see off the cliché' obsessed person. Pause, continue, pause, and continue! That was the pattern of my research while I multitasked with my reports on recent discoveries. I haven't made very much. In fact, I'm possibly the worst Archeologist in the world. The only thing I found was a diary from Anastasia Romanov when I went on that trip to Russia but it was pure luck. Of course, I do not have it with me now as there are laws in every country that Historians must abide by. My discoveries belong to the state, country, or wherever and not to me. Ah well, that proves my point of being awfully fruitless. Life must go on, right?

I sipped on my can of soda lazily. I ignored the mess at my desk feeling quite irritable, kind of hard to pretend that stacks of bills weren't taunting you with its prices, scattered pens begging to be stuffed into the cabinet, the lamp that was starting to flicker. The cherry wood furniture emphasized the mess with its contrast in color. The green lamp was old and dusty so it was no wonder the bulb was struggling to keep its incandescent light—hopefully it burned out because I simply hate to see this dump. A dump _I_ created. Guilt finally won me over once I threw away my soda into the trash bi and swept the table free from its content. I wiped the dust off the cherry wood desk with a sheet of bounty as well at the lamp. It finally died out. It was my time to get to bed.

I walked to the bathroom and did the nightly basics before kissing my grandpa goodnight. I slipped into the comfort of my bed and looked out my window. "Interview…" I murmured. I almost forgot my own plan too. I knew exactly what to do, simply show my stuff and boast about my single discovery—ok that was a terrible plan. Perhaps, give words of flattery and wheedle out of disapproval. My mind was on the move again—it was most active at night where the silence made it all the harder to stay thoughtless. My eyes were glued to the ceiling but my thoughts were wandering the present, past, and future. To a point where I was nearly seeing spots! Were my Grandpa to see me, he'd smack his thinly lips "I thought _I_ was crazy…I guess you proved me wrong, little one." And give his most charming laugh. He was a kooky man, so, _I_ should know where I get my weird tendencies. I smiled at the thought of him. I call him, Doc because of the way he acts quite similar to the elderly man in the classic, B_**ack to the future**_.

Half an hour passed with a still restless mind.

I suppose I was excited for the interview tomorrow.

I'm out---good night.


End file.
